Phictober 2018 One-shots
by Pensez-a-Erik
Summary: My collection of Fictober one-shots. Hopefully, I'll be able to write one for each day of the month! (Rated T because who knows what I might write)
1. Don't worry, we still have time

**I actually wrote this yesterday! But I was too busy to post until today :(**

 **But hey! I'm doing phictober since I can't draw, so now instead I'll attempt to crank out a one-shot a day. I already have two, so I'm posting them back-to-back.**

 **(This prompt is techincally #7 or something... but I didn't feel like doing the one for 3, lol)**

It was still very early in the morning when Christine felt a nudge at her side.

She clenched her eyes shut, rolling away. _Probably Ayesha. Why hasn't Erik fed her yet?_

Tugging at the covers, she drew them up to her chin. The sheets were warm and comfortable, and she felt herself slipping away to sleep once more.

Until a cold hand reached out to gently shake her on the shoulder.

"Christine," the voice of her husband was low, a whisper. "My dear, you must rise."

Rubbing blearily at her eyes, Christine propped herself up by an elbow to look at him.

"Gosh, what time is it? Why are you up so early?" She momentarily forget about his insomnia.

Erik got off the bed, straightening his cravat and smoothing back his hair. He was already clad in a suit- impeccably stressed as always. She sat up all the way.

"It's a surprise," was all he said, the corner of his lip upturned in a sly smile. She found her heart pounding in anticipation. Swinging her legs up and over the side of their (synonym for bed), she stood up to walk nearer to him. She placed her soft hands on his chest. Her face tilted up to his unmasked one.

"And what type of surprise may that be?" she asked, her blue doe-eyes blinking up at him.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, but much to her chagrin moved away. "Not the type of surprise you're thinking, my little love."

Long fingers were curled as they beckoned to her. "Come, let us go. The surprise awaits us."

Christine glanced down at her attire. "Shouldn't I change? I'm still in my nightdress, Erik."

He smiled at her- a sight that never failed to warm her heart.

"You will be fine," he assured her. "No one else will see you."

XXxxXX

The air was cold when they emerged onto the rooftops, but his cloak, wrapped around her, warmed her immensely.

She stepped out by the statues, her eyes surveying the area. The sight took her breath away.

The rest of Paris remained asleep, the streets still nearly deserted and the sky only beginning to brighten.

In the distance, the orange-pink sun had barely risen.

"I… this is amazing, Erik," she inhaled, her eyes flickering up to his. He was steadily watching her for her reaction.

"I am pleased you like it," he replied earnestly. "I knew you would enjoy the sunrise."

His hand reached up to lift her chin. "It is quite beautiful, is it not?"

She had the implication he was not talking about the sunrise. Christine closed the distance between them, her lips pressing to his in a tender kiss. They remained locked in a warm embrace, his fingers slowly raising to entangle in her golden hair, and her hands thrown around his neck.

She broke away eventually, for air. Her brows rose as she recalled something. "We should probably head back down soon, I know Madame Giry wishes us to arrive early for rehearsal today. I still have yet to get dressed."

He kissed her again, quick and sweet. "No worries, we still have time."

And so they stayed.


	2. Will that be all?

The library was the only public place Erik still found himself venturing to.

Even though others frequently gawked at his mask, and he was the only patron the librarians did not assist… he still found himself drawn to the small, one-story building.

It was a very small library, a rather old one that not many people went to. Erik supposed he could be considered as a regular at the establishment.

Now he stood in the abandoned History section, thumbing through books for a specific novel he'd had his eye on for a few days.

It was with great frustration that he realized it was missing.

Someone _took_ the book he wanted!

Erik's hands curled into fists, and he stalked out of the aisle to hunt down a librarian. Someone had to have explanations!

The first employee he spotted was a small blonde girl, her arms reaching way above her head to stack books up onto the top shelf. A distant part of himself thought it was slightly amusing- the girl couldn't have been more than barely 5'0", yet the shelf was almost twice her height.

He did not recognize her, either. She must be a new hire.

But he was _not_ in the mood to be amused.

The little librarian still had yet to turn around, so he cleared his throat rather loudly. Jumping, she swiveled around.

Erik found himself staring into the brightest pair of cobalt eyes he'd ever seen.

His limbs stopped functioning, and he simply stood there, stock-still.

She was so… beautiful.

"Oh, hi!" her voice shook him from his thoughts. It was a sweet tone, like the vocal embodiment of honey. His face burned beneath his mask.

Good lord, what was _wrong_ with him?

"Can I help you with something?" she asked, tilting her head.

"I, uh, yeah actually." he cleared his throat, struggling to remember what it was that had brought him to this blasted establishment in the first place.

"There's a book I came to check out, but I cannot find it. I was wondering if you could perhaps, um, assist me in locating it."

His tongue appeared to be tied up in knots, his normal eloquence thrown completely out the window.

"Sure? What's the name of the book, and the author?"

He gave both pieces of information willingly. While talking, he spared a glance at her nametag.

 _Christine._

"Yeah!" she said. "I can find that for you. Just follow me."

Christine led him over to the same history section, where she immediately began searching through the shelves. Her brows were furrowed by the end of the section.

Kneeling down, she peaked at the bottom.

"Aha! Here it is, sir," she smiled up at him, holding out his book. He gently took the book from her hands, letting their fingers brush as he did so.

"Will that be all?"

Erik was half-tempted to say 'no' simply so he could talk more with this girl, who had managed to entrapture him in less than five minutes.

"I… yes," he said truthfully. "Thank you very much, though."

She graced him with a wide grin. "I'm glad to have been of assistance."

As he was leaving the llibrary, it was upon a split-second decision that he would return tomorrow.

Until then, though, the thought of the little librarian continued to plague his thoughts.


	3. Take what you need

_It_ had been on her mind all day. Like an unpleasant earworm, she was unable to rid herself of. The memory of what had occurred a year ago, on this day, had plagued her from the moment she looked at the date.

And had that not been indication enough, Erik had not been in bed when she woke up. He _never_ left her before she woke. Staying and enjoying the mornings with her was one of his favorite things to do, she knew.

But his side of the bed had been empty, the blanket tucked in neatly as if he had never even slept there in the first place.

Now, Christine stood at the exit doors of the grocery store, staring at the parking lot with an anxious expression.

 _No more dawdling,_ she told herself. _Just bite the bullet. You'll have to talk to him eventually._

Her nervousness infuriated herself. Why was she even hesitating to go home? She and Erik had overcome many obstacles in their relationship- the anniversary of that night should not be a setback.

Perhaps it was because how _he_ would react. Christine knew he still beat himself up over everything. Over 365 days had passed, but he still felt guilty and awful. No amount of assurances of her love seemed to help.

Her hands tightened on the handle of the shopping cart.

"Come on, Christine," she chided herself. "Go home and comfort your husband."

Feeling as ready as she would ever be, Christine pushed through the automatic doors.

XXxxXX

Stepping on light feet, her eyes surveyed the living room as she entered their home. Nothing seemed torn down or broken… that was a good sign, at least.

The kitchen proved to be just as empty, along with the music room. She peeked into their bedroom, but he wasn't there, either.

That only left one room. The storage room.

Originally, it had served as his bedroom before their marriage. Shivers ran down her spine as she recalled the dark and desolate room, full of dark curtains and the large, cold coffin.

Now it was full of random discarded junk she couldn't bring herself to get rid of. Erik might have been a minimalist before their marriage, but she certainly was not.

Her hand rested on the doorknob, and she creaked the entrance open.

There were no lights on, no indication he was even _there,_ but the soft rasping of his breath told her enough.

"Erik?" she took a few steps forward, her breath catching in her throat as she spotted him, lying in the coffin. His mask was off, and his eyes flashed open upon hearing her voice.

The golden orbs tracked her steps as she neared closer.

"Ah, here to pick up your things, I see?" His voice was scratchy, and while he appeared to be the epitome of calm… Christine knew better. Erik was quivering with emotion.

"I- what? No! What? I wanted to know where you were. You were gone when I woke up."

"Hm. You say that as if it is not pleasing to you."

"It's not."

Erik sat up in his coffin. Thin, veiny hands, gripped the sides as he pulled himself.

"My dear," he sighed, "Do not lie to me. I will not stop you, you needn't be afraid. Simply take what you need."

"Erik. I'm not leaving you. This is… because of the anniversary, isn't it?"

Letting out a groan, he rubbed his face with a hand. "How could I forget?"

A sad smile upon her face, she moved over to hover above the coffin.

"You mustn't blame yourself, not anymore. It's been over a year."

He gazed up to her and swallowed. "I cannot imagine that you've already forgiven me. I was so _awful_ to you. I was a… a monster."

Christine shook her head. "I forgave you long ago, Erik. I married you, after all."

"Yes, but sometimes feelings can change. I would not judge you if you were to leave."

Brow furrowing, Christine took his head gently between her hands, tilting him to face her.

"Hey," she said, "You listen to me, Erik. Yes, what you didn't wasn't right. You kidnapped me, and almost killed Raoul and Nadir-" Erik flinched. "- _But_ you've been amazing and perfect and the absolute best husband I can ever hope for. I love _you_."

"Oh, my dear," he sobbed, before pulling her into a tight hug. It was a little awkward, with her still sitting on the sharp edge and him still in the coffin, but she did not mind. Especially not when he pulled away to press a tentative kiss against her lips.

"I love you, too," he breathed. His thumb stroked her cheek.

Christine smiled.


	4. I've heard enough, this ends now

A loud screeching sounded out from below, shocking Erik into freezing in his tracks.

"Ow!" Christine stopped too late, bumping into his cloaked backside. She grasped his arm to steady herself. "Why'd you stop?"

They stood on the catwalks, far above the stage, cloaked from view.

Erik did not initially reply to her, staring at a small figure on the lower stage. His gaze quickly hardened into a glare.

"Carlotta," he growled. "Those incompetent so-called 'managers' disobeyed my warnings and let her _sing_ again. If it could even be called singing."

Christine looked down at the red-headed, whom of which was practicing her scales. At the higher notes, however, the woman's voice cracked. Christine winced, and Erik visibly flinched.

"What're you going to do?" Christine turned to meet his gaze. "Nothing violent, I hope?"

A sigh. "Of course not, my Christine. I would _never_ think of harming La Carlotta."

His tone was laced with heavy sarcasm. Christine raised an eyebrow.

Down below, Carlotta squealed particularly loudly, leaving both of their ears ringing.

Pained, the unmasked half of Erik's face scrunched up in a grimace.

"I've heard enough, this ends now."

Reaching over, he grasped an idle sandbag in his gloved hands. He hoisted it up, and dropped it down onto the stage.

It missed Carlotta by a centimeter, landing directly in front of her feet. A scream escaped her lips.

He turned to find Christine with her arms crossed, a lone eyebrow raised.

"I know," he sighed, "But please, my dear, I could not handle any more of that torture."

And he strode down the catwalks, eager to escape the hysterics of Carlotta and the managers down below, completely missing the small smile that grew on his beloved's face.


	5. Can you feel this-- I know you do

**Sorry I missed yesterday's prompt! I was ridiculously busy over the weekend. This one contains two prompts, to make up for it (though I'm still around two days behind because I started late. Oops!)**

There was a layer of dust upon the book. It had been shoved underneath the shelf, most likely having fallen and accidentally kicked away. Christine had found it while cleaning- and was at once sidetracked by her new discovery.

A book full of her childhood fairy tales, a novel that she had remembered to take when moving to Erik's place. Somehow she had managed to forget about it.

Now, she thumbed through the worn pages fondly, smiling at all the memories associated with the book.

She looked down at her round belly and wondered if the book would bring new memories to their child, as well.

As she was so distracted by her book, standing at the dining room table, she did not hear the soft closing of the front door.

Or the quiet footsteps.

Christine jumped when a warm pair of arms wrapped around her in a hug. The shock soon faded away, however, when she recognized the person that held her.

"Erik!" she scolded, "You should not sneak up on me like that. You scared me."

He pressed an apologetic kiss to the sensitive point behind her ear. "I'm sorry, my dear. I simply came to find where you were."

"I'm fine, I simply found this while cleaning." Christine held up the fairy tale book. Erik took it in his hands, flipping through the pages.

"It will be perfect for when she is born! Oh-" she gasped, a hand flying to her abdomen.

"Erik! The baby moved!"

His eyes were wide, and he pulled away as she turned to face him. Grasping his hand, Christine pressed it flat against her belly. She grinned, brimming with excitement.

He managed his own smile, but his gaze was trained on her belly. Where their baby- their child- slept.

"Can you feel her?" Christine asked, her hand still holding his. He looked up.

"Yes," he said, his breath a hush. "I do."

In a few months, that baby would be in their arms. A real child to look after, to dote upon and love.

Erik couldn't wait.

Leaning forward, he kissed her and wrapped her in a tight- yet gentle embrace.

"I love you," he gasped into her hair. Her arms raised to encircle him.

"I know you do," Christine was still grinning. "I love you, too."


	6. You should not have come here

It was dark and cold, the caverns echoing ominously all around her as she walked. The catacombs had never seemed menacing when she was at Erik's side… but now they appeared to loom upon her. Stretching on for miles.

Christine found herself on the opening of his house. Surprisingly enough, she had remembered the way. She had half expected herself to get lost on the journey down.

Raising a hand, she pressed the small panel to the right, watching warily as the door swung open.

Christine did not know what to expect. Or what she might find.

Her heart pounded, and her throat bobbed as she stepped in to the dark parlor, taking in the overturned chaise and extinguished fireplace. Everything was covered in a light layer of dust. Not long had passed since… _everything_ happened. He must not have touched the place at all since she left.

Then she came across the sharp remains of a violin- _his_ violin, ripped into pieces, discarded on the hallway floor. Wood chips and broken strings were scattered at her feet. The bow was snapped clean in half. A chill seemed to suddenly overtake her blood.

"Erik?" Christine called out, wishing for once that her voice would stop _quivering_ so she could speak.

There was no response. Just a beurgoning silence that grew more and more opressive as the minutes passed.

He wasn't in the kitchen, dining room, or even his own room, which she had checked with terrified hesitation. It had taken all of Christine's strength to peer over the side of his coffin, her heart clammering in her throat.

But he had not been inside. Which meant that he was either in the Louise-Phillipe room… or he was gone.

Gone where? She could not even begin to fathom. And the ideas that _did_ spring to mind felt too awful and unbelievable than she cared to think of.

He couldn't have disappeared, she came _back._ Would it all be for naught? Everything suddenly seemed horribly unfair. Christine broke into a sprint, heading towards what had techinically been her room.

Hand wrapped around the knob, she opened it softly.

And gasped at what she saw.

" _Erik!"_

Her shrill voice must have startled him awake, for his limp form jerked up in surprise and he turned towards her in instinct. His eyes glowed a honeyed amber as he took her in.

Yet something about him felt… off.

For one thing, he didn't seem too surprised to see her. His expression only lightened with a dull recognition, but he, for the most part, still seemed groggy.

"Ah," he rasped, his golden voice creaky with lack of use. "I seem to have gone quite far this time. The hallucinations aren't usually so… realistic."

His words were heavily slurred. Christine blinked at him a few moments.

"No," she shook her head. "I'm not a hallucination, Erik. I'm real."

A thin, wiry smile appeared on his lips. He did not seem to have heard her. Christine walked closer. Her hands grasped his.

"Erik, I'm here. I really am. And I wish to stay."

Erik stood abruptly, leaning forward to wrap her in a hug. He stunk heavily of alcohol, she realized. He was completely and utterly drunk.

"That's what they all say," he sighed uncharacteristically.

While a part of her urged Christine to pull herself away to get everything in order- _she was going to hopefully stay, after all-_ she couldn't help but relish this moment. He was still painfully skinny and clearly malnourished, with his bony hands and lanky arms. But her eyes fluttered shut as his fingers ran through her long hair, his face pressed against her neck. He would _never_ have touched her like this, sober.

And she loved it, she realized.

Just as she thought this, his grip loosened, and he settled back on the bed. He looked back up at her. His eyes were a little bit clearer.

"You… You should not have come here," he said. His Adam's apple bobbed as she moved closer.

"Perhaps," she offered him a small smile. "But Erik, I couldn't leave you down here. Not all alone."

Erik seemed to process this information, his lips parting slightly as he tried to figure out her meaning. _Oh,_ how she wished he was not drunk.

He was so very gentle when she sat down beside him, hugging him once more. It was heaven on earth to be enfolded in his arms. Home. Christine could feel him weeping softly.

There was no fire lit in his little house on the lake. But the room still felt warm, comfortable.

Especially as she spent the night in his arms.


	7. I thought you had forgotten

**So I actually wrote this multiple days ago, but kept procrastinating on posting it, rip**

Christine cracked open the door, despondent to see the lights off and the living room empty.

Her day had already been tinged with sadness- but not for any real and good reason. _Selfish,_ she chided herself. _Erik has more on his mind than celebrate your birthday._

It didn't ease the sting. He hadn't mentioned her birthday at all, and she had at least _thought_ he knew. She had been leaving obvious hints all week.

Christine dropped her purse to the floor, sliding off her jacket and exhaling. Flicking the lightswitch on, she padded into the parlor. Erik wasn't in the house- she was all alone. Maybe a good cry was in order.

Right before she sat down on the sofa, however, the soft strings of a violin echoed in the air, slowly growing stronger. Helpless to resist, she followed the music, trailing down the hallway and past all rooms, before her hand rested on the doorknob of the music room.

The door was slightly ajar; light flowed in from the small space.

The music stopped as soon as she pushed the door open completely. There leaned her husband against the piano, his violin still resting in his hands. Erik set the instrument back in its case when she neared.

"Just wait," he said, turning around to retrieve something that had been hidden behind his back.

Curious, she did so patiently, watching as he pulled out… a box wrapped with a ribbon!

She gasped, a wide grin spreading on her face. "I thought you had forgotten!"

"Oh, my love," he stood up, handing her the small box. She took it gently. "I would _never_ forget your birthday."

Her hands unwrapped the wrapping, opening the box to pull away at the tissue inside.

The most gorgeous pair of earrings she'd ever laid eyes on sat in the box.

"Erik! These are _beautiful,"_ she held them up, marvelling. "God, these must have cost a fortune!"

His hand reached to tilt her chin up. "Anything for you, Christine."

Setting the earrings on the piano, she pulled him in for a kiss.

"Thank you, Erik."


End file.
